


Whiskey Lips

by wild_one (thescroller)



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: F/M, Modern AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-05
Updated: 2020-03-30
Packaged: 2020-06-11 07:22:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 20,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19530259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thescroller/pseuds/wild_one
Summary: "I've always wanted you.""You've done a shit job at showing that Arthur Morgan.""I think we both know that."--You and Arthur Morgan have known each other since you were just kids. Until you decided that you wanted to go off and go to college, leaving a lot of things unanswered in your wake. Certain life events, bring you back to the town of Sweet Water and the cowboy you had left behind. Things are very different this time around, but one thing remains the same.{Modern AU Arthur}





	1. 1.

_Arthur_

I had heard there was a rumor that she was coming back.

I can’t remember who exactly had put the idea in my head, but it to have been John. Abigal always seemed to be in the know with the latest town gossip, so one of the nights when we were down at the bar, John had casually thrown it in the conversation, but the knowing look in his eyes said otherwise.

He knew.

Since that night, almost a week ago, I found myself looking over at the overgrown house behind ours whenever dinner was finished, hoping to see a light on, or even the shadow of someone lurking in the emptiness. But I was beginning to lose hope that I would ever see her again.

Until today, the crunch of the gravel under heavy tires in the mid-afternoon brought my attention to the deserted building. As I was hucking hay into the back of the tractor to be brought down to the horses and cattle, did I notice the car pulling up the long driveway. Someone, a woman, stepped out of the car and took a deep breath.

All I had been able to see was a head of dark hair, pulled up into some sort of messy bun on the top of her head and petite shoulders staring up at the disheveled house. The woman seemed to mutter something to herself with a shake of her head before giving a deep sigh and turning her attention back to the same vehicle she had stepped out of.

When she glanced up, and I was sure that she had caught me staring intently in her direction, did it hit me that it was in fact _her_.

She didn’t seem to notice me though, she just scanned the unkempt grass surrounding where she had parked her car like it was annoying her. Hell, that grass had been annoying me, and I had been getting damn near close to cutting it down myself, but I told myself that it would be a good excuse to say something if anyone ever came back.

“I’ll be right back,” I shouted, not waiting for an answer as I made my way through the valley of grass.

I watched her as I made my way over to where she was standing, it was hard not to notice the way she looked more defeated than I had ever seen her, her shoulders slumped as she struggled to get her overly large suitcase and bag out of the trunk of the car. I did notice the small little tattoo that graced the top of her right shoulder blade, but not a good enough look to make out exactly what it said. She also appeared paler than I remembered, but I could only assume that city life could do that to a person. Somehow, I managed to get a good couple of feet behind her without being noticed before clearing my throat.

“Shit,” she muttered with a soft yelp as she turned on her heel so quick, I was surprised she didn’t get whiplash.

We both stared at each other for a couple of heartbeats before I couldn’t fight the sudden grin across my lips. “Is that really you, Y/N? Back in Sweet Water after all this time?”

She stared at me intently, from head to toe, and it made me all too aware of the fact that I probably looked and smelled just as filthy as I felt in her eyes. When her eyes made their way back up to mine, she dropped her bags and stepped forward, her arms wrapping around my torso softly - it was almost enough to make me fall to my knees at her touch that I had long since imagined.

“Arthur Morgan,” she said with a whisper, giving me another tight squeeze before releasing me and taking a step back.

Those two seconds made me already miss her touch.

“It’s been way too long,” I said with a sigh, allowing myself another couple of seconds to look over how much she had changed. “Grams always talks about you, well I should say she always talked about you.”

She laughed a bit, a beautiful sound to my ears. “Yeah, you know Grams, always have to fill people in on my business.”

“How’s she doing?”

“Good,” she nodded, her head bobbing slowly. “She’s adjusting well to the home, but I’m sure you know the reason I’m here.”

I gave her a slight shrug, not trying to give away that the whole town knew why she was back. “I had heard somewhere that you were here to help fix up the old house.”

Another nod, “Yeah, that’s it. I’m here to fix up the house, make it all pretty and cozy so some poor family can come through and buy it.”

There was a quiver in her tone that I couldn't make out, but I didn’t want to pry too much right now. That could always come later, provided that I was able to see her a bit more. “Well, you know where I live,” I stated, giving a wave in the general direction of the house behind my shoulders. “If you need any help, please, come over and grab me.”

“I think I’ll be okay, Arthur.”

Her tone and the way she said my name was making my urge to touch her almost unbearable. “Seriously, Y/N, anything.” 


	2. 2.

**2.**

You had been sorting through your clothes for the last two hours, a glass of wine in hand while listening to whatever had been on the television at the time before your stomach started to grumble in frustration for not being fed anything but a liquid diet for the last couple of hours.

Your brain, on the other hand, was feeling like it was swimming in a fishbowl of reality.

Knowing that if you kept this up, you’d end up hating life come the morning. Begrudgingly, you got up and stumbled your way into the kitchen - opening the fridge to find nothing but more wine and some cheese and butter. When you opened the pantry, you were lucky enough to find some bread that hadn’t started to mold.

“Need to go grocery shopping tomorrow,” you muttered to yourself, wishing that you had someone here with you to keep you company, even if it was Grams evil cat. Except you knew that was next to impossible, so instead you were stuck with the same reoccurring thoughts of what you could have done differently.

And every time, you always came up short.

Angrily, you chugged what was left of your glass of wine before slapping together the makings of grilled cheese and turning on the stove, putting the flat pan on the burner and the buttered bread beginning to make a promising sizzle of crispy bread. You grabbed the other bottle of wine from the fridge and took a heavy swig straight from the bottle while you flipped over the sandwich, proud to see that you hadn’t burned anything but a small corner of your dinner.

Another three swigs from the bottle and your stomach rumbled once more while you stared out at the window just over the sink. From where you stood, you could see the light on in Arthur’s house, making you think back to earlier today.

Arthur Morgan was always a man you couldn’t have. Not only was there a decent age gap between the two of you, but it was just common knowledge that he was trouble growing up. Shoplifting from the local stores, skipping class and running “gambling” rings with his older friends throughout the school day in the boy's bathrooms - the man was asking to be a hindrance to the local police officers.

Despite all that, the man had a heart of gold. He’d give you the shirt off his back if you needed it. The gambling money he won, it was usually to help his Pa pay off the farm, shoplifting was groceries for the family and he would only skip class so that he could help out on the ranch when they were shorthanded.

Arthur was the kind of man who only ever saw the bad things that he did, never realizing that while he was stealing, it wasn’t for selfish reasons. It was to make ends meet.

When you agreed to help Grams with preparing her house for the market, the thought of running into Arthur had crossed your mind, but you were always under the impression that when he was able to get out - he would. Turns out, just like a lot of things in your life lately, you were wrong.

The scent of something smokey brought you back to reality and your proud little sandwich was looking a little too dark. Not wanting to waste time making another, you threw it on the plate and grabbed your bottle of wine before heading to the back porch. You had been inside all day and the house was starting to suffocate you with your thoughts, a little fresh air would do you and your bottle of wine some good.

For the first time all day, you pulled your phone out of your pocket to see if you had any notifications. Of course, you had about ten missed calls from the same person you had been trying to avoid and an e-mail from the lawyer you had reached out to. Deciding that you had too much wine in your system to deal with any of that, you put your phone back down and focused in on how crispy your melted cheese sandwich was.

“On a diet?”

Normally, that gruff voice would startle you like he had earlier today, but in your wine-soaked state, it excited you. “Good evening Mister Morgan.”

You didn’t miss the sharp intake of his breath when you said his name like that. There was a brief moment where he wasn’t in your line of sight before he came and stood across from the plastic chair you were perched in. “That’s some spread you’ve got there.”

“Want some?” You asked with a lop-sided grin as you extended the dark bottle towards his towering frame. “I have a whole other bottle inside.”

You watched as shadowed eyes looked from the bottle to where you were sitting and to the small bite you had taken from your less than stellar dinner. “Sure, I don’t see why not.”

Kicking out another chair towards him, you waited while Arthur made himself comfortable, extending those long legs of his and taking a long drink from the bottle. “What brings you over here tonight, Arthur?”

Even in the dark, you saw the way that he shrugged his shoulders. “I guess I wanted to check in on you is all.”

“Is it that obvious?”

“Well,” he took another swing of the bottle, “it wasn’t until I caught a glimpse over here to see you stumbling out the back door with this,” he held the wine out in between the two of you, “bottle.”

A fit of giggles escaped you as you thought of how that much of looked to an outsider. “Damn it, here I was thinking I was being slick with my drinking skills tonight.”

Arthur gave you a sort of grunted laugh as he took another deep sip, but you could feel the way he was eyeing your from over the carafe. He gave an audible swallow before he pulled his legs back in and sat up, zeroing those blue eyes in on you in the dimness of the Sweet Water night. “Seriously, are ya alright?”

“I’m far from it.”

There was a minute of silence that followed your drunken confession as you could practically hear the wheels turning in his head as he tried to make sense of your words. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not really.”

He gave you a kind of dissatisfied sigh as he sipped some more before holding the bottle back out over to you. In the usual silence, you heard the sound of your much too loud chewing and the occasional movement from the cattle that were still out in the field on the Morgan Ranch. You appreciated that Arthur wasn’t pushing you to talk, but you could tell in the rigidness of his body language that he wanted to help you out - even if he didn’t know how to really go about it.

You’d blame the wine in the morning, but you found yourself blurting it out before you could stop yourself. “I’m married.”

“Oh,” you noticed him sit up a bit more in his chair now, eyes everywhere, but on you. “And that’s what’s troubling you.”

You shook your head. “No, not really. His affair is.”

He took a deep breath, you could see the slowness in the way that he opened and closed his fist as he took in your little tidbit of a life update. It more or less one of the biggest reasons you were back in Sweet Water. Running away from your problems was probably the cowardly way to handle things, but you didn’t even want to be in the same town as your husband right now.

“I can say that I don’t really have anything to say to that,” came his slow reply as he took another deep breath. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say that Arthur was even more upset about the affair than you had been - but during your eight-hour drive south, you had come to terms with the fact that all the signs were there.

You had just chosen to turn a blind eye to what was right in front of you.

“It’s alright,” you lied, pushing the plate filled with your crust towards the center of the little glass table separating you and him.

He stood up suddenly and much too quickly for your muddled brain to comprehend, you found him crouching down in front of you, a hand on either side of the chair and his eyes demanding your full attention. “No, Y/N, it’s far, far from alright.”

You shrugged, unable to move your gaze from his. “I should have seen it coming.”

“Hell no,” he continued, gritting his teeth and sucking in some air before he spoke again, “that man should be worshipping the ground you walk on.”

A nervous giggle began to bubble over. “Arthur, I’m not completely innocent here either.”

“Did you also have an affair?”

“Well, no, but I could have made more time-”

He shook his head harshly before placing one of his hands on top of your own. “No, he’s the one that fucked up here. Not you. Never you.”

* * *

The rest of the night kind of became a blur after that. All the wine you had drunk for the last couple of hours really seemed to kick in with a tsunami of befuddledness, but you remembered laughing so hard at one point, you started to cry.

What you didn’t remember was what time you went to bed, how you even got to bed or how you somehow managed to get yourself in just your bra and panties. The hangover was bad enough with the cottonmouth and the pounding headache radiating from behind your eyes, but trying to piece together the night before was going to make everything that much worse.

_Did you say something to Arthur? Something that would lead to him taking you to bed?_

A groan escaped as you rooted through the pile of clothes that had been so clearly thrown on the floor with complete disarray to find an overly large t-shirt. You slipped it on, not even bothering trying to find a pair of sweats, you made your way back downstairs to the kitchen and saw two very empty Pinor Noir bottles sitting there, daunting you with their existence and causing a wave of nausea to take over.

Clutching the edge of the counter closer to the sink, you closed your eyes and force yourself to try and remember to breathe. By the third breath, you were feeling a hell of a lot better, but the knocking coming from the back door was not helping your headache anymore than you’d like.

Another groan and you pushed yourself off the counter and followed the pounding noise. One thing you never were used to about this town was how the front door was never the source of entry, it was always the backdoor - delivery men, neighbors, even the odd religious speaker; all of them came to the back door.

You pulled the door open just a crack, avoiding the bright sun with every ounce of your being. “Mornin’,” came that voice again. “I came to check on ya.”

“Arthur?” You asked, squinting up to see the massive man before you once more. “What the hell happened last night?”

He gave a low chuckle, pushing the door ever so slightly, allowing himself to make his way into the foyer. “Wine happened last night.”

Closing the door carefully behind him, you shuddered at the word. “That word alone might make me throw up.”

You trailed behind him slowly, knowing that you weren’t wearing pants, but also not really giving too much of a shit in the same process. Arthur strutted into the kitchen, a brown paper bag in tow before placing it on the counter delicately and rummaging through it. “I noticed you didn’t really have much here when I put you to bed last night.”

“Put me to bed?”

He grinned to himself, rooting around toward the bottom of the bag, the crinkling noise it produced even being too much for your head to handle. “Yes, little one, I put you to bed last night.”

“Alone?”

“Very much alone,” he paused like he wanted to say something else, but instead pulled out a large bottle of ginger ale and what looked like a generic pain reliever. “I also figured you wouldn’t be feeling so hot this morning, so I came bearing gifts.”

“I don’t know what I’d do without you, Arthur Morgan.”

He gave you a shy sort of smile, finishing rooting through the bag after setting you up with the appropriate hangover remedy. You leaned against the counter watching your old friend take care of care in the most innocent sort of way, much as he had way back in the day when he dragged you out to some party in a neighbors basement. You really don’t know what you would do without a friend like him.

“Morgan,” you started, waiting for him to turn and face you. “Thank you for last night. I don’t remember much, but I know I feel a hell of a lot better than I have in the last month.”

The way he smiled back at you put the sun to shame.


	3. 3.

**3.**

_Arthur_

It had been well over a week since I had gotten around to checking in on Y/N.

Sure, I found myself, once more, staring out into the backyard and seeing the lights on in the house. It was hard getting used to that view all over again. Sure, when Miss Williams lived over there, she always made an effort to wave when we made eye contact - cause sometimes while just doing the most mundane things around the house, my eyes made their way over there. But that house had been empty for months it seemed.

Then just like always, she came back and the world seemed to be painted once again.

“Earth to Arthur,” John’s raspy voice floated through my thoughts. “Anyone in there?”

With a shake of my head, I zeroed in on my old friend. “Sorry.”

His dark eyes searched my face, a perceptive look passing over them. “Sure you are,” he grinned wolfishly up at me. “I can tell your mind in with someone else.”

“With who?”

Abigal appeared out of thin air in the aisle we were in her face a mess sudden concern and confusion. John met her halfway, carefully placing a single kiss on her cheek, which earned a very wide grin from the brunette. They had their differences, most days they seemed to be fighting instead of getting along, but there was no denying the feelings they had for each other - when things were good for the two of them, they were _good_.

“Just an old friend,” I answered honestly, turning my attention back towards the tile John had been inspecting.

I didn’t have to turn to know that both of them were staring pretty hard at the back of my head, John most likely with that all-knowing shake of his and Abigal trying to piece together why her husband knew more than she did. Instead of trying to explain myself, I flipped the two cool tiles between my hands, inspecting them closely as if my life depended on it.

When I turned back around, John was nowhere in sight and Abby was staring me down. “Who’s this old friend Arthur?”

“Exactly that,” I stated, holding out the darker blue tile towards her. “What do you think of this one?”

Her eyebrow quirked upwards as she looked at the object I was holding out towards her for all of two seconds before giving it a slight nod and focusing her attention back to me. “As long as it can stay looking clean between my husband and Jack, I don’t really give a damn about the tile.”

“Then why the hell are we here?”

John somehow reappeared, a long cart in his grasp which was now filled with wood glue, long planks of lumber, some wires, and bulbs. Rejoining in on the conversation, he parked the large wagon between the three of us. “We’re here because we are getting ready to start building on that land,” he stated matter of factly, “And so we can get out of your hair.”

“You know, I don’t mind having ya’ll around.”

“It’s not you that I’m worried about,” John said, eyes cast downwards to his dirt-encrusted nails. “We just think, you’ve been helping us long enough - it’s time that we really get out on our own.”

I opened my mouth to argue but was suddenly very distracted by the familiar face that just walked in through the main entrance of the hardware shop. There I stood, my mouth agape like I was some sort of hooked fish when both of my friends turned to eye what I was staring at. Though I couldn’t see it directly, I know they both shared that look they always gave when they were in on something that I was completely missing.

John gave me a pat on the shoulder before mumbling about heading over to check out before he and Abigal wandered over to where the cashiers were located. It took me a minute to collect myself, still not used to having her back in places that I could see her other than looking out that window over the kitchen sink.

It still felt like a dream sometimes.

“Arthur?” Her voice pulled me out of my thoughts, making the heat rush to my face as realized that she was only a couple feet in front of me, arms crossed across her chest and smirk forming on her lips.

I shook my head, embarrassed that it was now twice in the last twenty minutes that I had been completely lost in my thoughts; lost in thoughts about her to be exact. “Y/N,” I gave her a small smile, glancing at her only briefly before turning my attention to the tiles still in my hand. “How’ve you been?”

She looked at my hands before shifting on her feet and giving a slight shrug. “Not hungover, if that’s what you mean.”

Not being able to help but laugh at her admission, did I look back up at her still passing the samples back and forth between my hands. “I would imagine that’s a good feeling.”

“Usually the best kind,” she grinned this time, her eyes adverting towards what I was fidgeting with for no reason. “I’m a little surprised to see you here.”

“You do remember that I live here, right?” I teased, finally turning back towards the large selection of tiles and putting the pair that I had found back where I found them. Keeping my eyes on what I was doing, I shook my head a bit, “I’m actually here with John and Abigal. They're looking to build their house.”

Her tone said it all without me having to look at her. “Those two are still together?!”

“Well, they have their good days and bad days, but one way or another they always find their way back to each other,” finishing my mindless task, I turned back to face her and those wide eyes of hers. “They’ve actually been staying with me for the last couple of months.”

“That would explain the loud truck I’ve been hearing at four in the morning the last couple of days,” she said with a nod, probably thinking back to mornings that she had been awoken. “I was just getting the courage to come over and tell you off there, Morgan.”

She was always more of a spitfire than I really gave her credit for.

“There you are handsome,” a flighty voice cut through the conversation at hand. “I thought you’d be at the check out with John.”

Suddenly, I felt something between a mixture of dread and guilt settle into the pit of my stomach as I turned to face the other familiar face I’d grown accustomed to seeing every day for the last year and a half. “Sorry, I was just catching up with an old friend.”

That old friend had been brought up twice already today.

Her brown eyes followed mine, slowly, to the unfamiliar ones to her. I could see in the way she was straining her lips a little too much in an effort to feign a smile that she was less than thrilled to be having to wait longer than I had promised for this little errand.

“Y/N, I’d like you to meet Mary.”

The two of them stared at each other briefly - Y/N probably trying to piece together if this was someone she knew from high school or someone that we all used to hang out with together outside of the usual gang. Mary, being ever the jealous type, was trying to find something that she didn’t approve of about the woman standing opposite from us. I knew she’d be quick to bring it up as soon as we were out of earshot.

Mary’s lips tilted in a stiff smile as she looked between Y/N and me, clearly trying to determine if there was any sort of threat involved. “It’s nice to meet you,” her voice was just short of flat. “Arthur rarely introduces me to his friends, well, with the exception of John.”

“Martson likes to make himself known,” Y/N said with a nod, her eyes searching the space between Mary’s body and my own. “And likewise.”

Another awkward silence fell over the three of us. I would be lying if I didn’t feel that this was like being caught in a web of lies, but the fact of the matter is, I was just nervous about how these two would play out with one another.

Y/N, being the ever polite woman that I knew, cleared her throat and look over at me with questions in her eyes. “So, how do you and Arthur know each other?”

Mary stepped closer to me, her hand reaching for my forearm and giving it a squeeze. “Oh, he didn’t tell you?” She smiled that all-knowing grin of hers. “We’re getting married.”

Never in my life did I want to shrink into the smallest man imaginable. 


	4. 4.

**4.**

It had been weighing on your mind the last two days that Arthur Morgan was getting married.

You couldn’t pinpoint exactly why it was weighing so heavy on your heart, but it just didn’t sit right with you. Maybe it was because his wife-to-be, Mary, just seemed - well, she seemed a little too stiff to be with the go with the flow man that you knew Arthur to be. And truth be told, you always figure if he was going to get married, he would have long ago; as you had. Although your marriage was in shambles at your feet, you still saw it as you way out of Sweet Water, which was why you had assumed that Arthur Morgan would be one to do the same.

You had been keeping yourself busy, avoiding your phone as best as you could with the exception of checking in with your mother and drawing up some papers with your lawyer. You knew that when you were done helping out Grams, you’d be, hopefully, more prepared to face your demons back home.

Finishing the final stroke of the muted yellow in the living room trim, you swipe the sweat off your forehead, missing the real use of the central air conditioning before reaching over for your large glass of sweet ice tea. Just as the cool glass came in contact with your lips did you hear a knock come from the back door. Chugging a decent bit from the glass, you made your way towards the door pulling it open and moving your refreshment out of the way as you looked up at the blue-eyed cowboy standing on the other side.

“Did I catch ya at a bad time?” He asked with a raised eyebrow.

You smiled up at him, giving a shrug and stepping into the house leaving the door open behind you. It was another one of those things that you just grew up doing at your grandmother’s, opening the door and letting whoever was waiting on the other side into your kitchen, usually to offer them a snack or something to drink. Well, typically you only would let people in that you really knew and trusted - otherwise, it would be something out of a seventies murder movie.

“Don’t you always catch me at really bad times?” You asked, leading the way into the kitchen and grabbing the pitcher of sweet tea and another clean glass. “What do I owe the pleasure of the groom-to-be?”

His arm reached up and scratched the back of his neck as gave a slight chuckle before taking the now full glass that you were extending towards him. “Ah, yeah, please don’t call me that.”

“What?” You teased, propping yourself against the top of the cool countertop. “Is that not what you are Mister Morgan?”

His eyes closed while he took a heavy sip of his sugary goodness. “Well, yeah, but,” he shook his head, eyes darting to the condensation already being to form on the outside of his glass, “That’s not important - It’s not why I’m here.”

“Okay, so, shoot.”

You watched as he took another long sip, his eyes darting between your own and what looked like the top of your head. “I wanted to see if you were free tonight.”

Something about his question made your stomach drop a bit. “Just probably going to get a head start on primary the master bedroom,” you continued to look over at the older man across from you. “Why are you asking?”

“Well a bunch of us are going down to Grimshaws, I wanted to extend the invitation.”

“Who exactly is ‘a bunch of us?’” you asked stepping away from your perch and a little bit closer to Arthur.

Now it was his turn to shrug a bit. “I know that John will be there and if Abigal can find a babysitter, she’ll be there. I heard talks of Karen and Tilly tagging along.”

“Please tell me that Micah’s bitch-ass won't be showing.”

Arthur snorted a tad, giving you a side smirk that always sent the girls into a frenzy. There was no denying the fact that you had totally been one of those girls. “I really can’t say,” he admitted. “But even if he does, I know you could take him.”

“Damn straight.”

“So,” he chugged the rest of his amber liquid before placing his cup on the counter and turning his eyes back on to yours. “Does that mean I can count on you being there?”

* * *

You easily had changed your outfit at least three times.

Grimshaw’s was nothing fancy; just some hole in the wall bar that never had ID’d when you were in high school. Arthur had taken you there a couple of times when you had grown a pair and skipped a couple of classes - usually to hang out with the older man and some of his friends. The bar would always have a soft spot in your heart for more simple times.

The best part about this place was it was roughly a ten-minute walk from Grams. Meaning, if you got a little too tipsy, which you were hoping wouldn’t be the case so that Arthur wouldn’t think you were developing a problem, you wouldn’t have to worry about finding a ride back home.

It also meant that a stupid little sundress that was borderline close to the same color you had been painting with all-day was a definite no-go, so you had to root around for one of your favorite sleeveless shirts in a deep navy blue and a pair of dark jeans. Your best friend back home would be throwing a hissy fit of the century if she saw your outfit wasn’t complete with a pair of “strappy back” heels, as she called them. Just to humor yourself, you snagged up the only pair you had remembered to bring and made the mental to note to actually stop hiding from the world and make an effort to call Kristin before the end of tomorrow.

Lord knows that she had been messaging you to make sure that you were okay.

One final look at yourself in the mirror, making sure that all your makeup had stayed in its place and that your hair looked somewhat decent - despite knowing that by the time you made that short walk up to Grimshaw’s it would be more frizzy that you preferred, you made your way out the back door.

Another somewhat odd thing that you remember about Sweet Water was that almost everyone left their doors unlocked. You weren’t really okay with that since you were basically living on your own these next two months, but you only locked the knob instead of that whole deadbolt. If Gram’s had been with you, she would have given you such a hard time about having trusts issues. Your lack of trust issues plagued your thoughts as you began your hike, in heels, up to the bar.

“I was hoping to beat you there,” that voice cut through how trustless you had been letting your heart be. A heavy pair of boots seemed to come running up behind you when you paused trying to follow his footsteps, “But now I’ll get the chance to reminisce about old times.”

He was talking a little too fast, causing you to halt in your tracks and turn to look at him, “What the hell are you talking about Arthur?”

“Ah,” he shook his head, that shy little smirk, you rarely ever saw him give, gracing you with its presence. “Don’t worry about it.”

You just shook your head at the man, before moving your feet forward again. “So, uh,” you cleared your throat softly, “is it just you coming tonight?”

Arthur was quiet, those eyes that you always imagined getting lost in staring ahead at the open road before you. “Are you asking if Mary will be joining us?”

He had called your bluff and you shouldn’t have been surprised, but somehow you still were. With as much of a nonchalant shrug as you could give, you answered. “Well, maybe I want to get to know that woman that will be the future, Mrs. Morgan.”

A bit of silence fell between the two of you. Again.

“She’s, well she would like to join us, but she didn’t say for sure that she could,” he nodded as he spoke. “She has to head over to her dad’s for a bit and wasn’t sure about what time she’d be back.”

A question you had never considered, bubbled past your lips too quickly for you to have a proper way to collect yourself. “Does Mary live with you?”

“Yes.”

“Huh,” you stated kind of flatly.

Now it was Arthur’s turn to pause in his tracks and look over at you as you took two more steps ahead. “Does that bother you?”

In a weird, deep-seated, kind-of forbidden desire sort of way, it did bother you. It made your insides twist in a fit of possessive snakes. Sucking in a short breath, you turned, “Well, yeah. I guess I’m just surprised that I’ve been here for two weeks and I had never heard of her until I ran into you the other day.”

The two of you were close enough to the bar that you could hear the hustle and bustle that always followed the drunken endeavors. Even when you lived in the city, bar crowds always sounded a certain way, but in Sweet Water, it was background noise - most of the local bars were filled with the usual people, but like you remembered Grimshaw’s was and will always be a bit offbeat.

“Our relationship is… well, it’s different.” Arthur explained slowly, his hand reaching up to rub the back of his neck just like he had earlier. “She lives with me when she doesn’t have to be with her dad, so most days it’s still just John and myself, but like one weekend a month she stays with me.”

“Interesting.”

“Yeah,” he stepped forward to meet you where you stood. “I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you about her, but I think I was just really happy to have you back home.”

You nodded, actually braving to look up at him and those handsome features of his. Truth be told, you were so damn jealous that Mary was with him, or at the very least, the looks of him. Arthur was exactly what you wanted in a man, but the age difference and the need to get out pushed you away from ever making anything of the relationship the two of you had.

Maybe getting a little bit more than tipsy would help calm these thoughts of yours.

Turning away from him, you looked towards the entrance where two men had just breached in an effort to bum a smoke. “Ready to head in?” 


	5. 5.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the wicked long delay. depression is horrible and my brain just was not working.  
> updates will be more frequent once more! <3

**5.**

Just two steps in the door and you were met with such familiarity it made your stomach do backflips. Sure, maybe it was it had something to do with that you were walking into the bar with Arthur, but the fact that the woman behind the tattered wood bar took one look at you and a large smile blossomed across her lips.

“Is that little Y/N?” She called over towards where you were still standing, scanning the crowd, bringing the attention of everyone within a five-foot radius of where she was standing. “I’ll be damned.”

You shook your head and ignored some of the confused glances other patrons were giving you as you made your way over to where Miss Susan Grimshaw was stepping out from behind her known perch behind the bar. “Miss Grimshaw,” you smiled and opened your arms as she matched your gesture, wrapping you in her arms. “It’s really good to see you.”

“Same to you darlin’,” she replied, releasing you and stepping back to look over you - something you’d gotten used to with all of Gram’s friends. “How are you holding up?”

Assuming that Arthur had wandered off to find somewhere to sit, you quickly glanced around once more to see that he had found John and Abigail tucked into some corner booth. You stared at that broad back of his, as he shook his head over something that his best friend was talking about expressively with his hands. You weren’t quite sure if you wanted to head over to the three of them just yet, so instead, you followed the older back to where she had someone else waving her down.

She gave the man a slow nod, pouring his tequila and sliding it down the bar before her gaze zeroed back on you. “So?”

“I take it you’ve been talking to Grams, huh?”

She gave you a slight shrug. “I may have swung by the new home before work the other day, just to say a quick hello and she filled me in.”

You sighed, gazing at the selection on the walls behind her, your tired, but done up reflection catching the corner of your eye. “Does that mean half the town knows?”

“I’d say at least a quarter.”

Even though you were mildly irritated that your grandmother was sharing your woes with the world, you knew that she shared with the good intentions of simply being worried about you. Going back to Miss Grimshaw’s original question, you asked with a deep breath, “I’m...I’m holding up.”

“Holding up as in you need the strongest stuff I’ve got?”

You smiled. “I don’t know why I left you behind, Miss Grimshaw.”

“I’ve been asking myself the same damn thing,” she stated with a wink, before reaching under the bar for what you could only assume was your favorite brand of whiskey.

Of course, when her hand remerged with exactly what you thought was in hand, you grinned at Susan. She filled that baby to the brim, sliding it over to you with a wave of her hand that it was on the house. You made sure to make a mental note to tip that woman really well before the night was over.

“Good to go?” His familiar voice came dangerously close to your ear before you whipped around to a smug-looking Arthur Morgan.

“Jesus Christ.”

“Just call me Arthur,” he said with a wink and a nod as Susan handed over his glass of bourbon over towards the two of you. “Want to join the rest of the gang?”

You took a slow sip, feeling the way the whiskey tingled at your lips and the back of your throat, before giving the man a slow nod. “Might as well get this over with.”

“Everyone’s excited to see you,” he encouraged, extending his arm out towards the table you had seen John at. “I promise, I’ll buy the next round.”

Grumbling into your glass, you followed him back over to the booth where you were met with a wolfish grin and a scowl from your least favorite person still in this town. Arthur allowed you to scoot into the leather booth first, the fabric bubbling up as you adjusted yourself until you were pressed into between the cool wall and Arthur’s wide shoulders.

A self-satisfied smirk met you across the table, causing you to down more of your whiskey at hand. “Well, well,” he said, drawing out his words ever so slowly, “If it isn’t little Miss Y/N.”

“Ain’t so little anymore,” you replied, earning a coughing fit from the man squeezed in next to you.

Micah wiggled a lone eyebrow up at you, making your skin crawl as you took a large slug of the spicy liquor - using it as your barrier between you and the creep. “Oh, don’t worry - we know you ain't little anymore.”

“Bell,” Arthur’s voice rumbled. “Watch yourself.”

A good chunk of the night, you sat right there in that booth - sandwiched in a slew of memories of younger years and laughing about the stupid shit the four of you used to do. Most of the stuff that had almost gotten you arrested was due to the lovely Micah, who had spent the first half of the evening constantly making observations about how you weren’t so “little” anymore. At some point, John lodged a hard fist into his arm.

It was with enough force that the man had to excuse himself.

Somewhere along the line, you reached the bottom or your glass, making you ask Arthur to scoot out of the way so you could gracefully make your way back to the bar. Apparently, you had stumbled more than you thought because John was at your side, a firm grip on your arm as he led you over to a barstool and flagged down your favorite bartender.

“How ya holding up?” He asked, washing down the last of his bar and ordering himself water and something a little bit lighter for yourself.

Miss Grimshaw cocked her head at you and grabbed your same whiskey for earlier, a silent ‘shh’ present as she nodded towards John causing you to giggle softly. Turning your attention back to John you gave him a shrug, “Holding up in what sense?”

“Well, for one,” he huffed. “I heard that you finally got to meet Mary.”

“Is this woman a best-kept secret around here or something?”

That earned a slight left from the man to your left. “Something like that.”

“And what the hell does that mean?”

“Ah,” you watched as he looked back over to the booth where Micah has reappeared with Arthur. “Mary’s father doesn’t really approve of her relationship with our friend.”

You found that interesting, considering Arthur was one of the better men to ever have been born and raised in this dinky little town. “So, is that why their engagement is so hush-hush?”

“More or less.”

“Hm,” you nodded your head, letting that sink in for a moment while Susan brought over your glasses, mentioning that Arthur was taking care of the tab tonight.

You and John sat there for a moment, sipping your drinks and enjoying a couple of minutes without Micah’s lewd comment about the next hottest girl with a low cut top or a skirt that you could just almost see all the way up. Mostly, you were thinking about this newfound information and something in your gut didn’t feel right about the relationship Arthur and his wife-to-be had.

But the whiskey and your muddled feelings might also have a say in all that.

“Between you and me,” John broke the quiet, well, as quiet as a bar can really be, as he stood up and straightened his back, “I don’t think they are going to get married. I think Arthur knows it too but is too good of a man to say anything about it.”

For the first time all night, your heart hurt for someone other than yourself. It hurt for the man you’d always had a soft spot for, even though knowing better than anyone that a relationship with him was never going to happen. Between you up and never coming back, his taste in women (you clearly were not his type) and his troubled background - the world seemed to be against the two of you.

And yet, knowing that the woman he had selected to spend forever appeared to barely want the same with him; that cut deep.

“Why do you think he knows that?” You asked, keeping your voice just about a whisper. “Is it something she said? Or?”

John gave a small shrug, turning himself around so that he was facing the entrance and pushing his back into the bar surface. “She never comes around the house when Abigail and I are there, she will only ask to see Morgan if it’s knowing her dad is out of town or too drunk to know where she’s at. It’s just a whole slew of things.”

“And everyone else in the town is okay with keeping quiet?”

“That’s the kicker,” he said with a snort. “She’s not from Sweet Water.”

Things were starting to add up a bit more about the woman. You didn’t have a leg to stand on though because if you approach the subject with Arthur, it could easily backfire given you current situation - your husband was having an affair right under your nose and you didn’t have the faint clue.

The two of you stood there, sipping on your drinks while you thought about all this new information. The whiskey was certainly settling well into your bloodstream - not exactly how you wanted the night to go, but damn did it feel good. As you took another gulp of the liquor, you heard John mumble about heading back to the booth to which you just gave a small nod towards, sipping your glass a bit more while your thoughts continued to swirl around.

You didn’t have to look to your left to know that he was standing next to you or the question he was going to ask before he did. “You alright?”

“Just doing some thinking.”

His elbow leaned forward on the surface and you knew he was looking at you. “Anything worth talking about?”

You knew you could have confessed that John and yourself were just conversing about him, but that would only make things a hell of a lot more complicated. “No, no, nothing worth talking about,” you looked over at him with a tipsy sort of grin. “You got anything you want to talk about?”

He shook his head as well. “I was thinking it’s about time for me to head out.”

“Oh?”

He gave a small shrug. “It’s that or I swing at Micah. And I don’t think Miss Grimshaw wants to deal with that again.”

The sip you had started to take, choked a bit at his little confession causing the burn to tingle it’s way up to your nose. “When the hell did this happen?”

Another shrug as he squinted towards a bottle directly across from the two of you. “If I have to really think about it,” he paused, the focus all too real as he stared ahead, “It was probably shortly after you left.”

You let that sink in for a moment, not quite sure what to make of it. You chalked it up to the usual life changes and everything new that came with it. Arthur always had a bit of a temper when it came to the softer topics and, who were you going to kid, Micah needed a good sock in the jaw most days.

“Well, Morgan,” you offered him a small smile. “If you’re going to head out - I’ll head out with you.”

“You sure?”

You gave him a nod. “I’m positive.”

The two of you made your rounds in the small bar - waiting until the end to say goodbye to Miss Grimshaw, to which she handed you a small flask with your favorite and a wink that you’d be back the following weekend. You told her that you made no promises, but deep in your heart, you knew it was probably a fact that you’d end up back here.

Arthur and yourself made your way out the exact same way that you had come, only this time you followed close to him. You stayed quiet as you focused on the darkness that came with the Sweet Water country and with every step, the clammer, and clang that came with Grimshaw’s faded into the distance until it was just the sound of your heels hitting the pavement.

“How are your feet holding up?”

You tried to make out the shape of your feet against the dark pavement, but with the mixture of eerie quiet and liquor in your system, you were failing miserably. “I guess not too bad.”

You heard his soft, but hearty laugh off to your left. “We don’t have to walk far.”

Another quiet agreement and the two of you continued on your pace. You had so much that you wanted to say to Arthur Morgan, but when this being the best opportunity for you say something - your tongue felt like it was glued to the top of your mouth. So, instead, you focused on how many steps it was taking you before you lost count and tried to find the outline of your Gram’s house in the distance.

“So,” the brooding cowboy said, “how long do you think you’ll be sticking around again?”

You knew it was a weighted question. “I”m still not too sure. Probably once I get everything done at the house, probably once the house sells.”

“How long do you think that’ll be?”

“I honestly have no idea. With how things are looking, it could be until the end of the summer.”

He seemed to give a satisfied hum as you stepped forward, slowly seeing the silhouette of Gram’s house coming into view, with the back porch light still gleaming into the night. Without too many words, Arthur made the effort to walk to up to the back door while you fished for your keys and the right words to say for this interesting night you both had shared.

The familiar jingle echoed in your ears as you pulled them from your small bag and turned towards your neighbor. “Thank you for taking me out tonight, well, for inviting me out.”

He nodded his head, his eyes flicking between the keys in your hand and the door you were standing in front of; those brown eyes making their way to your way while he seemed to be searching through his thoughts carefully. Giving him a small smile, you went to turn and unlock the door when a calloused hand reached out, grabbing your forearm softly and stopping you halfway.

When you turned to face Arthur, you were met with parted lips and a heavy gaze. The two of you stood there for a solid minute, looking at one another intently before his mouth found it’s way on to yours and his hand released your arm and made its way around your waist. The kiss lingered for several minutes before he broke it off and disappeared into the night, his heavy footsteps echoed into the mist crunching grass. 


	6. Six;

**6.**

“So,” there was a long inhale from the other side of the line. “He just kissed you?”

“Yep.”

“There was nothing leading up to when he did it?”

You opened your mouth to answer but found yourself drawing a very heavy blank. You had been quick to call Jesse as soon as you had woken up, trying to convince yourself that last night was a dream, but when the memory of rough lips pushed through your thoughts - it was time to make the call.

Did anything happen that would lead Arthur to just do that? You knew that you had been feeling yourself by the time you both had agreed to leave - thanks to your favorite bartender and that interesting conversation with Morgan’s best friend, but in-between all that, you never felt that you were giving the cowboy any reason that you wanted him to kiss you.

Even if you had always wanted to know what that felt like.

“You there?” Your best friend asked, bringing you back from your confused thoughts. “Hello?”

You shook your head, trying to focus on what wise advice your friend could give you right now. After all, she had been your rock through everything you were dealing with when it came to your husband, why wouldn’t she be the one to help you sort out your heart as a whole? “Yeah, sorry, I’m still here.”

“I never know with those country cell towers out there,” she said, a laughing tinging at the end. “So, are you going to tell me if anything happened?”

Shrugging, despite that she couldn’t see, you turned your attention to your cup of coffee that you had been stirring for the last five minutes. “Nothing that I can remember.”

“Isn’t this the same Arthur you had told me about when I met you in college?”

A smile tugged at your lips at the fond memory of your college roommate barrelling into your shared room for the first time. Her blonde hair barely being held together in a messy bun while she damn near dropped her necessary travel mug off coffee before she just threw everything down and shoved a hand in your face. She was ten times more outgoing than you’d ever be, but without her, you wouldn’t have even come out to Sweet Water, to begin with. She was one of the few to kick you out of your comfort zone - and for the good of yourself.

“That would be the same, Arthur,” you answered with a sigh. “I can’t say he’s changed much since I left.”

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”

“Honestly,” you took another long breath. “I really can’t tell you.”

She was quiet for a good minute before you heard the telltale sign of some advice that you weren’t sure you even wanted to hear. “Here is what I think,” she started, “Have you ever heard that old saying about how ‘drunk actions are sober thoughts?’”

“I think once when you were trying to talk to me about something that Allen did at one of your birthday parties.”

You didn’t need to be with her to know the way that she was sneering at the phone, “Yeah, well, I think that Arthur has some unresolved feelings with you as well. I think you being back in town and seeing the way that you fit in with his life, just like old times, compared to the woman he is supposed to marry - I think he’s just as confused as you are.”

Groaning, you leaned forward far enough that your forehead pushed against the cool wood of the kitchen table. “What am I going to do?”

“Talk to him.”

The rest of the conversation circled around your anxiety about what was to come. You played out every situation except for the one that actually gave you what you wanted. Jesse, kindly, pointed out that you were looking for an excuse to not face your problems. Something that you seemed to be doing a lot lately.

When you hung up, you had a lot to think about - so, naturally, you headed out to the back porch and made your way into the garage. It was the one area of Gram’s house that you had really been avoiding because of all the years worth of things that had been piling up. There had to have been stuff stored away from when your grandmother was in high school, or stuff from when you had gotten married.

There was a massive chance you were going to dig up something that you didn’t want to.

You began your task, slowly and carefully pulling things from various corners of the garage. Starting to sort things into piles of trash, things to donate and things hang on too, you had to have been in there for at least two hours before your stomach seemed to register that you hadn’t even touched food since the night before.

As if on cue, there was a knock from the front of the steel building you were hiding away in. “Hello?”

With eyes closed, you’d have known that deep tenor of a voice anywhere. “Arthur?”

Heavy boots trotted their way over to where you were sitting in the middle of your mess, an old book still in your hands while you were staring at your piles in an effort to place it somewhere. Arthur took one look at you and those familiar butterflies swarmed into the pit of your stomach. “What’cha doing back here?”

“Just going through some things,” you answered, casting your eyes away from him, knowing that those blue eyes of his would probably catch on to the double meaning. “It’s the more difficult part of the house.”

“Hm,” he replied, continuing to edge his way inwards until he was standing above where you were sitting cross-legged. “What’s in your hands?”

Glancing down at the book in hand, you rubbed the front cover with the pad of your thumb. “Just the yearbook.”

“Our yearbook?”

You gave a nod and flipped it open, the pages stiff to the touch as Arthur crouched down next to you, legs too large to sit in the same position that you were in. “I was just trying to decide if I wanted to keep it or not.”

He hummed at your answer and you could feel the way his eyes were searching your face. You didn’t dare to look up, too afraid of what your features might give away. “There’s a lot of memories in that book.”

“There’s a lot of memories here too.”

There was a pretty obvious double meaning with that sentence, one that would mean Arthur Morgan was an idiot to not understand. He finally sat himself down on the ground, legs outstretched as far out as the cramped space would allow him while trying not to get in the way of the pile of things you had spread about.

He took a slow breath, eyes taking in everything across from the two of you. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Your breath hitched for a moment while you pretended to focus on the raised writing on the front cover of the yearbook and not how your heart was pounding way too loudly in your ears. “I’m not sure I know what you are talking about Morgan.”

He gave a low chuckle, his eyes staying on the pile of trash directly across from him. “I think we both know you aren’t that dumb.”

The fact that you even were able to get into a college spoke volumes in this dinky little town. With a shake of your head, you placed the yearbook off to the side, using it as some sort of barrier between the two of you. “Do you really want to talk about it?”

“I think we have to.”

Your head hung low as you settled with the realization that he was right. “Then, I think you should start.”

“Fair,” Arthur gave a slow nod but continued to keep his head facing forward. “I’ll start with apologizing.”

“And just what are you apologizing for?”

This time his gaze shifted to his hands, which hung aimlessly in between where his knees had to be propped up. “For kissing you.”

Without warning, you felt tears prick at the corners of your eyes. You weren’t too sure if it was the fact that he was apologizing for his actions or that he felt that his actions genuinely needed to be apologized for. Knowing that it was probably a somewhere in between, you gave yourself a mental pep talk followed by some deep breaths that you hoped he didn’t notice before shifting yourself to face him.

His eyes were closed as he appeared to be thinking about something himself when the crack in your voice broke through. “It’s okay,” you tried to say to the best of your ability. “We had a lot to drink last night.”

“Yeah.”

You both gave that slow nod that people give one another when they just wanted to come to a mutual agreement without stepping on the other person’s toes. Gingerly, you pushed the yearbook that was between the two of you closer to him until it poked at the corner of his leg with the pointy part. “Want to make fun of how Micah looked in your senior year?”

“Hell yes.”

For a moment, it was as if nothing had happened - as if you two were just a bunch of silly high school kids again. Arthur ended up staying for an extra two hours, pausing at some point to run inside and grab the pair of you some cold beers and what looked like that secret stash of cookies you had hidden away for emergency purposes. Which, clearly, your choice of hairstyle was just that sort of emergency to Arthur. He kept poking about the loud colors you always had smacked in it or that time when you got too excited about a piece of bubblegum causing you to be missing a chunk of your front bangs for the better half of your sophomore year. The thought alone brought that stench of Hubba Bubba back to you - something that ale and a fistful of Oreos could render.

Sometime around five o’clock, there was what sounded like a heavy truck pulling into the driveway across the way. Arthur jumped up, you following close behind, telling yourself that you’d deal with the rest of the mess early tomorrow morning when you saw a familiar face emerge from a bright red pick-up truck.

A pang of guilt and disappointment wedged its way in between your rib cage as she ascended up the back porch towards where she disappeared behind the unlocked door.

“Ah,” Arthur said, pausing exactly where you were standing, now looking at your canvas shoes. “I guess I should probably head back. Make sure the cattle are taken care of and all.”

“Yeah,” you nodded, stealing a look up at the giant of a man and knowing that he was avoiding saying her name. “That’s always a good idea.”

There was a slight hesitation as you both stared at one another; flashbacks of the night before ping-ponging in your head like a neverending replay. “I can come back around sometime this week and help you sort out the mess that’s in there,” his head jutted in the direction of the building the two fo you had just emerged from. “If you want.”

“Oh, you don’t have to do that Morgan.”

“Says who?”

You started to answer, but a high ‘Arthur’ pierced through the sticky night air. Deciding it wasn’t worth putting any more strain on your already confusing relationship, you gave a solemn nod. “Sure, as you can see - I need all the help I can get.”

You watched as he crossed the lawn, much like the night before, but this time you had to admit that Jesse was right.

There was something there.

You felt something there. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you'll are so sweet. feedback literally keeps me going and you guys don't disappoint.   
> thank you so much for continuing to support this story.


	7. 7.

**7.**

Despite trying to keep your hands and thoughts busy, you found yourself circling back to what you had only just now come to the realization of.

Sure, even in high school you had always been curious as to why all the other girls went crazy when Arthur walked into a room. He was barely at school as it was, but yet, he made a huge impact when he was there. Even some of the teachers had a soft spot for the man - but maybe that’s just how he was. A huge soft spot for most of Sweet Water as it would seem.

“Coming here was a mistake,” you muttered to yourself as you shifted one of the boxes around with the edge of your toe before bending down and grabbing up the two empty beer bottles and what was left of the crumbling Oreos. “I should have just sucked it up and faced my demons instead of running off here.”

“Are you talking to yourself again?”

Whipping your head around, you found John standing at the opening of the garage with his arms crossed in that all-knowing way. “Uh, hey John,” you said slowly, the bottles shifting in your grasp with a rattle. “What are you going here?”

He shrugged and stepped towards you, picking up what had fallen out of the wrapper and facing you. “Just figured I stop in and see how you were holding up.”

Chewing your bottom lip in thought, you sighed and cast your eyes down to the items in your arms. “Arthur told you didn’t he?”

A smirk formed on the corners of his lips, kind of like he knew about an inside joke that you didn’t. “He didn’t really have to.”

You kicked at the imaginary object at your feet, shifting your gaze towards them. “What does that mean?”

“It means,” he twirled the wrapper around in his hands, “I came home last night to a very panicked man, pacing back and forth in the living room while chugging straight from the bottle.”

The image, despite the circumstances, made you giggle and blush all at the same time. You didn’t know if it was the fact that you had that kind of effect on Arthur or because of the guilt that had been making its way through your veins since seeing Mary pull up into his driveway.

John didn’t seem to mind, in fact, he grinned back at you while you tried to pull yourself together a bit. “Yeah, so as soon as I asked the poor bastard what was wrong, he just spat it out. Hell, I think he kept on talking about it for a good chunk of the night.”

“Well,” you drew out the end of the word slowly, “Did he talk about it?”

John’s smirk tilted a bit. “He wouldn’t shut the hell up about it.”

In some sort of weird way, it made you feel good to know that he was just as confused and bothered by what happened last night. It didn’t help ease your conscience of the fact of the matter that it was wrong, on several levels, but it did help to know that it wasn’t just you. Chewing your bottom lip some more, you slowly stepped forward and scooted by John, knowing all too well that he was just going to follow you inside anyway before speaking again. “Did.. did he say why he kissed me?”

You listened while John’s boots trailed behind, following you up the back porch and into the foyer where you threw down the old yearbook and couple other random letters from Pops to Gran on the little bench seated against the wall. Trying to pretend like you weren’t genuinely interested to hear what he had to say, you focused on removing your flats and heading into the kitchen for some water.

“Why do you think he kissed you?”

You snagged a water bottle out of the fridge, cracking up the lid and taking a swig. “If I knew, I wouldn’t be asking.”

“Always the smartass,” he mused with a shake of his head, plopping himself down on the closest chair to him. “Y/N, Morgan has wanted to do that for as long as I can remember.”

The already cold water felt like someone was trying to gag you with an icicle as you choked on what was trying to make it’s way down your throat. “I’m sorry, what now?”

That little inside joke smirk was back as he shook his head. “Morgan’d kill me if he knew I was even telling you this,” he sat himself up in his overly plush chair, squaring his shoulders and looking at you directly. “Arthur’s always had a thing for you, even well after you left - I think a small part of him tried to hold on to you coming back after college, but when word circled back that you were getting married… well, you know.”

It shouldn’t have surprised you. It shouldn’t have made you feel like the air was being sucked out of your lungs and it sure as hell shouldn’t have been making you feel even worse about the choice in the man you married. And yet, you were gripping on to the counter in front of you, so tightly, that your knuckles were turning white.

Taking a slow breath, you closed your eyes speaking your next question carefully. “When did Arthur and Mary start dating?”

“About a month after your Gran broke the news about your engagement.”

“Fuck,” you groaned, slamming your palm down on the surface before you. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

John didn’t say anything. He just sat there, patiently and quietly while you let a slew of curse words cross through your usually polite lips. You paced back and forth for a moment while you thought about all the signs that you were too oblivious to pay attention - like the way he always had insisted on walking you home after school or when it was too dark to see straight, he was the first one to protect you from Micah’s lewd remarks or when the quarterback tried to start a rumor about how easy you were because you wouldn’t put out at homecoming, Arthur was the one to threaten to kick anyone’s ass who said otherwise.

He was literally always there for you.

And you left him.

“Why the fuck didn’t anyone say anything?” You murmured. “John, why the fuck didn’t you say anything?”

He shrugged, keeping his eyes on you while legs continued to move back and forth before him. He noticed the light on in the house behind the two of you had shadows moving just the same. “Honestly, we always thought that the two of you were an item.”

“We?” You squeaked out. “Who’s ‘we?’”

“You know, the gang - Sadie, Tilly, hell, even Dutch at one point mentioned something about you being Arthur’s little girlfriend.”

You paused your movements, stealing a glance out the window. “What am I supposed to do?”

Another shrug from Marston, bringing you pretty damn close to smacking him. “What do you think you should do?”

“Hell if I know, apparently I can’t even read between the lines or else I wouldn’t have married someone who was clearly sleeping with their secretary when a man like Arthur Morgan waited for me.”

John stood up this time - slowly, hands with their palms out in an effort to halt the insane movements you were making. “Would it really hurt if you just went over there and told him how you felt?”

“Marston!” You squeaked out, taking a breathe and collapsing on to the chair across from him. “How do I know for sure if I actually have feelings for Morgan? What if this is just how I’m coping with my divorce?”

There was a lull. You knew that John was clearly just taking your freakout with a stride; probably having Arthur’s still fresh in his mind, but this… this was something else. Your mind was running a million miles a minute between regret, your own stupidity, and just the sudden overwhelming urge to run across the lawn and kiss him all over again.

“I think you just saying all that,” he waved at your slouching figure beneath him, “proves otherwise.”

“Ugh!” You threw your hands up and gave another long drawn out sigh. “She’s over there right now, right this very second doing god knows what and I already know it’s too late. I can’t change the fact that he’s getting married to that woman.”

“You can.”

“How!?”

John's shoulder started to twitch causing you to give him a look that would probably murder him if he even thought about giving you another half-ass shrug. Instead, he gave you a nervous chuckle, eyeing you carefully. “I think you need to talk to him.”

“And say what?”

This time you didn’t mind that he gave you a slight shrug, because that was just how John was. He wasn’t to be helpful, but when it came to putting forth the actions to do so, he was always a little lost. “Just tell him how you feel.”

You groaned, your lip making it way back between your teeth. “I.. I don’t think I can go over right now.”

Morgan’s best friend stood, eyeing out the window once more. “You could always just shoot him a text.”

That had never crossed your mind. Partly because you felt like texting someone how you felt was a little odd and impersonal, but a bigger part being… you wanted to see how Arthur would react to you expressing how you felt. Even if you were still trying to convince yourself otherwise.

“I think I’ll settle for a text saying that we should talk,” you said out loud, more to yourself than to John, but the man across from you seemed to nod along with the idea as you fished your phone out of your back pocket.

With shaky fingers, you began to type out your message.

_Hey Arthur… thanks for coming by today. I had a lot of fun._

You hit enter following up with your next text quickly.

_If you are free anytime soon, I really need to talk to you about something._

Putting your phone down, you pushed it towards the center of the table like it was going to jump back up and smack you upside the head. Something that you knew Gran would do if she found out how you were handling the situation at hand. It took three deep breathes before your phone dinged and lit up with a new message.

John sat forward a bit, trying not to intrude on your private messages.

_Can I come by in the morning? There is something important I need to talk to you about as well._


	8. 8;

**8.**

_Seven Years Ago_

_Arthur_

Tonight is going to be the night.

I was going to tell her how I felt. I had to. There was no way that I was letting her slip through my grasp as I had allowed for the last several years. There was no way I was letting her leave without letting her know, there was just no way I was going to let this weight crush me any longer.

I, Arthur Morgan, was hopelessly in love.

There was no denying the way she made me feel when she looked up at me with those eyes of hers, lashes batting away while she grinned wildly up at the bizarre scene that always seemed to follow our little gang. And don’t even get me started on the way she looked in those jeans she was always strutting around in. Marston wasn’t any help, always giving me that sly little look like he knew something that I didn’t.

It would probably be the one and only time the poor bastard was right about something.

Usually, I would need a bit of liquid courage to get through what I was about to do, but I wanted to keep my head clear. This was a first for me, putting myself out on the line like this. It.. well, it was not something I ever felt compelled to do. But with her departure approaching, it seemed like I needed to clear the air so to speak.

Glancing at my phone, I felt my stomach sink - it wasn’t like Y/N to be this late. My mind was quick to come up with several different scenarios. Was she stuck in a ditch somewhere? Was Gran forbidding her from making her way across the lawn this late in the evening? Did Micah say some shit again?

Just as my thumb was inching closer to hitting that call button on her contact, she floundered through the slit in the barn entrance, a lopsided grin aimed in my direction. “Morgan,” she cooed as she adjusted herself into an upright position, “Sorry I’s late.”

I’d seen her one too many times like this to know just what was going on, but that didn’t stop myself from returning the large smile towards her as I opened my arms, allowing her the ability to crash into my chest with ease when she lost her balance once more. “I see someone snuck into the liquor cabinet.”

“Shh,” she giggled, holding a finger to her lips as she looked up at me, her eyes looking glossed over. “Gran... Gran can’t know.”

“You’re secret is safe with me,” I promised with a shake of my head while pulling her towards one of the beams closest to me, propping her up against it as best as I could. “But you might want to hang out around here for a bit.”

Her head bobbed up and down so quickly I was starting to think she might get whiplash causing me to place a steady hand on her shoulder, allowing her to stop the movement slowly. The chuckle bubbling up my throat couldn’t be stopped as my thumb absently stroked the side of her cheek, “I’m just glad you’re okay.”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

It was all too noticeable at how she was leaning into my touch, causing my stomach to clench with unsaid words. I took a step back, not really trusting myself to behave with the nerves fluttering about and gave her a shrug. “I just wasn’t sure if you really going to come by or not.”

She giggled a bit, her smirk faltering as she attempted to step towards me. “Blame Sadie and Karen,” she slurred slightly, falling back against the post, “they were trying to convince me to stay in Sweet Water.”

“You could stay, you know that, right?”

There was a sigh from her, the kind that could easily be implied that she was tired of having to explain herself. “Arthur, I can’t stay here. I’ve been here my whole life.”

“So?”

Her eyes closed and her shoulders slumped. “I.. I just can’t,” she whispered, the booze-induced exhaustion clearly hitting her hard. “There’s nothing here for me after graduation.”

Those words shouldn’t have stung the way that they did, but yet, anger bubbled up in my chest. “What the hell are you talking about?” My words came out harsh and quick. “You have Gran here, your friends are here, I’m-,” my words choked slightly as I tried to reign in the emotions seeping through. “I’m here, Y/N.”

“Arthur-” she started, eyes still squeezed shut, but I was turning away, giving her my back. “Please, I didn’t mean it like that.”

My heart was racing. “You just said that you didn’t have anything here.”

“It’s not like that,” she answered, the palm of her hand finding a way to my shoulder as she appeared to have braved a couple of steps to meet me where I stood. “I just mean, I have no room for growth.”

“What do you mean?”

She wobbled her way around, teetering on heels that someone had clearly talked her into wearing. Try as she might, Y/N was attempting to hold herself together, a soft smile on her lips as she willed my gaze to look down at her. “I mean, I’m not a farmer, I’m not someone’s wife. I can toss one back with the rest of them, but I can’t bartend to save my life.”

I cocked an eyebrow at her. “Says the one slurring her words.”

Y/N swatted at my chest but left her hand in its place. “I just.. I really don’t see anything here.”

“I’m here.”

“Morgan,” she sighed, her hand gripping my shirt tightly. “I need more than that.”

As much as I wanted to spit out my thoughts, tell her everything that was running through my mind - I could tell she was dead set on wanting her out. Who was I to be that selfish of man to ask her to put her dreams, the life she wanted, all in the backseat? All for some stupid little crush.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a short little chapter update for y'all. Thought it'd be nice to see something in the past with Arthur.   
> Expect the next update very soon!


	9. 9;

**9.**

Two hours.

At least that was what you thought you had been able to sleep when you hadn’t been tossing and turning all night. Any time you had been actually able to close your eyes, you were plagued with what was to come. What would happen if Arthur came to you and said that kissing you had been a mistake, that he was truly and really in love with Mary? What would you do if that wasn’t the case, if he came over bright and early and said that the wedding was off, he only ever wanted you?

When the sun finally made its way through the sheer curtains hanging in your old room, you gave up on any hope of rest and decided your caffeine fix was much more needed.

Barely having put the pot on the burner was there a soft knock from the back door. Your heartrate wasted no time kicking it up to the point it was all you could hear pounding away as you slowly drag your way to the source of your scare. There was no use in looking to see who was on the other side, every ounce of your being knew who it was when you pulled on the handle.

Soft ocean blue eyes gazed down at you with the same amount of exhaustion you felt. A smile tugged at his lips when his chin tilted upward. “Is that coffee I smell?”

Even with your nerves shot, that smile was hard to resist returning, “I just put the pot on.”

You turned away, allowing him to follow you into the kitchen where you reached up and grabbed two mismatched coffee mugs and placing them on the counter in front of you before noticing the way that Arthur was hovering dangerously close behind you. “So, I’m assuming you want it the usual way?”

His low rumble of a laugh vibrated through you. “Black, as always.”

“If I remember, you used to say it was as black as your soul.”

The warmth of his body enveloped your side as he leaned against the counter, looking down at you with utter admiration of the things you had the ability to recall. “And I’m sure you still like to take yours as cream with a splash of coffee.”

“Shush.”

He grinned at you, taking the mug you had extended to him before leaving your side and making his way past the kitchen table and towards your mess of a living room. A mixture of Gran’s items and your own were strewn about the coffee table, getting a good look at them as you followed Arthur to the overstuffed couch spotting a couple of highschool photos sticking about. The broad cowboy was nice enough to smooth over a stack of photos before putting his steaming mug down, the tension slowly settling into the cracks of your shared silence.

“So,” you took a bit of a shaky breath, focusing on the way the steam was rising out of your mug, “you said you had something you wanted to talk to me about.”

“You did too,” he mused, eyeing the way you were focused in on your milky drink wishing more than anything that he could read minds at this moment. “Shouldn’t ladies go first?”

Your bottom lip found its way between your teeth as you tried to think of a way to ease into what you wanted to say to him. Something that you knew should have been said many, many years ago. “Something tells me what you have to say might be way more important.”

“That depends.”

“On?”

You could have sworn there was a rattle in the way that Arthur took a deep breath, his eyes suddenly zeroing in on an old lake photo of the two of you from the summer of your junior year. “How would you feel if I told you that Mary wants us to move up the wedding to next month?”

Stomach sinking well past your feet, you tried your hardest to hide the way that your voice was going to crack at the beginning of your sentence. “Oh, um,” you took the moment to see the way that Arthur had his arms wrapped around your waist in the old photo, an ache you never knew you had tugged at your heartstrings, “I guess I’d ask what the rush was?”

“What do you think?”

There was no way of hiding the disappointment now as your eyes squeezed shut so tightly you could only hope that this was just a bad dream. “Is… Is Mary pregnant?”

“No.”

“Thank god.”

Arthur leaned forward a bit, forcing you to look over at him, his face blank of emotion at the moment. “I told her.”

Even though you knew just what he was talking about, you knew hearing him say it would make it that much more real. “Told her what?”

“Come on, Y/N, we both know what I’m talking about.”

“I want to hear you say it.”

He stared at you, eyes searching your face to see if you were just joking around, but the slackness of it proved that you generally wanted to hear him admit what had happened the night before. Keeping his focus completely on you know, he opened his mouth, “I told her that I kissed you.”

“And why did you kiss me, Morgan?”

Once more, his eyes held yours - only this time they distracted from the way that his body was scooting closer to yours. “You know why.”

“Tell me.”

“Dammit, Y/N,” he said through gritted teeth. “If you want me to fucking spell it out for you, I will.”

He paused, gaze finally moving to the lack of space suddenly between the two of you before they traveled back down to where you were absently chewing your bottom lip. A habit he knew you only did when you were getting anxious. Without a word, his hand made its way your cheek where his thumb slipped forward forcing your plump lip away from your teeth.

“I’ve always wanted you.”

“You’ve done a shit job of showing it, Morgan.”

Hand still against your cheek, Arthur gave you a small smirk. “I think we both know that.”

“What does this mean?”

There was a sigh and suddenly your cheek felt the chill of the air conditioning where his warmth just was. “It means I fucked up.”

It was hard to tell by his tone if he felt like he had fucked up by asking Mary to marry him or if he felt he had done wrong by kissing you the other night. You didn’t know which one would make you feel worse. With a heavy swallow, making you feel like there was a razor blade lodged in your larynx, you asked. “How’d you fuck up?”

His eyes darted to you and you could see the way he was trying to sort through his thoughts. “It means... It means I’m no better than your husband.”

“Excuse me?”

“Y/N,” he scooted forward only for you to scoot back, appalled that he was lumping himself into that garage heap of a man back in Boston. “I cheated on my supposed wife-to-be. I shouldn’t have kissed you the other night.”

Anger was coursing through your veins as you jumped away from him like he was holding out a venomous snake within arms reach. “Then why the hell did you?”

Arthur opened his mouth to answer, but you were quick to cut him off, pacing back and forth while word vomit just began pouring it’s way out. “Why the hell would you kiss me only to make me wonder why I never had the balls to do it when we were in high school. Or better yet, kiss me when you are supposedly in love with this Mary chick - which by the way, is not the woman I see you spending the rest of your life with.”

You paused enough to take a deep breath, turning a pointed stare to the stunned man sitting on your Gran’s couch. “Hell Morgan, if you were my man, I’d be showing you off to the world, not keeping you tucked away like some secret notebook.”

“Who says I’m a secret?”

Rolling your eyes at him, you huffed. “No one. Everyone. I don’t know.”

“Y/N.”

“No, Arthur, no.” Your voice was growing louder with every word. “According to you, kissing me is a massive fuck up.”

Now Arthur was standing in front of you, causing you to come to a complete stop with your small frame collided into his hard chest. His hands gripped your biceps with a purpose as he forced you to look up at him, “Hey.”

“Jesus Christ,” you exhaled, those blue eyes boring a hole into your skull. “Arthur I can’t keep doing this.”

“Doing what?”

“I can’t keep pretending like I’m not in love with you.”

There was no denying in the way that his sharp inhale was in shock at your words. “You’re in love with me?”

Heart racing, adrenaline pumping through your exhausted body enough that the coffees still sitting on the table by your knees were long since forgotten now as the man before you, was asking a question you never knew the answer to until his lips grazed yours. “Painfully so.”

The two of you stared at one another while your words sunk in, saturating the air with it’s pending storm to come. There was another couple of steps as the two of you met in the middle, lips wasting no time in finding one another in that perfect harmony you had been craving for forty-eight hours. Arthur’s hands found their place on your waist while yours clutched onto the front of his shirt like you were drowning and he was the only source of air.

He kissed you so hard, you could have sworn there would be a bruise there come tomorrow, but when his calloused fingers grazed the skin under the tank top you had slept in; there was a low growl that escaped him.

“Arthur,” you whispered, “I love you.”

Somehow, he stripped you down, himself following suit in record time until he had you pinned under him on the couch a sweaty mess of soft confessions and cries out for more. If there was a way to claim what he wanted and be gentle all at once, Arthur Morgan had that skill.

“Fuck,” he groaned, easing himself into your aching core once more as your world exploded behind closed eyes and hands gripped his shoulders as you came down from your high with him meeting you halfway.

Both of you took a couple of minutes to catch your breath as he planted several rough kisses all along your collarbone before speaking again, “I’ve wanted to do that for so long.”

“Me too.”

There was a brief moment of silence as the two of you tried to make sense of what just happened and the realization of several things came yanking you out of your bliss. “Wait,” you sat up a bit on your elbows, Arthur’s lips grazing your jaw once more. “Do you love me?”

“Princess,” he answered using an old nickname from high school. “I’ve loved you from the day you came barreling into my life.”

“Then we’ve really fucked up this time, haven’t we?”

\-- 


	10. 10.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this is a touchier chapter.   
> warnings; cheating, mentions of a miscarriage, lots of feels.

_**10.** _

The two of you made no efforts to rush to get dressed and face the aftermath of your actions. Instead, you almost savored it as Arthur’s lip grazed along your jaw before he moved off of you causing a groan of protest to escape you. 

“Oh, Princess,” he chuckled, shaking his head down at you. “If you think I’m willing to get this far with you and then go running,” he leaned over you once more, slipping his strong forearms under you until he hoisted you up into his arms. “You’re sorely mistaken.” 

“Mmm,” you mumbled, burying your face in his chest feeling his muscles move when he turned towards the stairs and began the ascend. “Not the kind of sore I was hoping for.” 

His chuckle rumbled through him, shaking you as he continued to move until the two of you were pushing through the threshold of your bedroom. The familiar feel of your comforter pushed into your bare back as Arthur made his way over you once more. 

His hands seemed to explore every inch of your skin that his lips couldn’t reach, but it was only a matter of time before they followed suit. The cowboy seemed to take his time, savoring the taste of your skin beneath until he found his way between your legs. A small glance up to where you were practically panting for him was all he needed before he licked along your slit with an achingly slow pace. 

“Jesus,” you moaned as his tongue slipped up to encircle your sensitive nub, rolling it in circles while he took another look up at the sight above him. The image alone had him rock hard, but he had wanted this for far too long to not have you at his full advantage. 

He pulled away for a moment, just as you felt like his fingers caress your warm entrance. “You’re making this difficult, baby.” 

You didn’t answer him, instead, you rotated your hips towards him - aching for more. 

He clearly got the hint, a low animalistic groan slipping through those luscious lips of his before they latched back on to you with an excited eagerness, but this time he didn’t waste a moment before his fingers slid their way inside of you. His thick fingers eased their way in, slowly picking up a pace while his tongue attacked you without mercy. 

It felt like only a matter of minutes before you were coming down from your orgasmic high. 

As you attempted to catch your breath, Arthur removed himself from your core while leaving a trail of kisses along your stomach until he was at eye level with you once more. There were so many things that you could tell he wanted to say, and you wanted to hear them more than anything in the world, but right now - you just wanted him. 

“Y/N,” he whispered quietly while his thick cock pushed against your thigh. “I…,” he took a slow breath, trying to steady the shakiness behind it. “I don’t think I have another condom.” 

Your hips bucked up towards him. “I don’t care.” 

There was a sharp intake from him as his own hips ground against yours. “Are you sure?” 

“Arthur,” your hand reached up and stroked his cheek causing him to look down at you through the haze of desire. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.” 

His eyes lingered for a moment longer, like he was trying to find some sort of reason not to go through with this, but when you brought your fingers to trace along the shaft of his cock - it was all he needed. There was a gentleness behind him as he slowly eased his way into you, your breath hitching as you felt him stretch you - much unlike the urgency of earlier. His eyes continued to scan your face before you leaned up and met him in the middle with a kiss, your tongue escaping to dance with his own. 

He moaned lightly at the tango your tongue was granting him before moving his hips a little more furiously into you. You broke the kiss, releasing a loud moan as your hands gripped at him harshly encouraging him to pick up his stride. 

The silent message was received as his head buried itself in the crook of your neck and his hands traveled down to grip your hips to hold you in place while he proceeded to thurst himself deep into you. There was still a sense of gentleness in his actions, there was also a sense of neediness behind each movement. 

Your stomach clenched as his hips twisted in just the right way that had those stars exploding behind your eyes. You swore it was only a couple more seconds before you were unraveling under him, a mess of curse words and shaking limbs before he muttered into your ear some incoherent sentence, stilling on top of you while he found his own release deep within you. 

The two of you stayed just like that for a couple more minutes before you were unable to help yourself anymore, you reached up and ran your fingers through his hair, feeling the silkiness of his strands move under them. 

Blue eyes bore down into you as he searched your face, a slow smile creeping across his mouth. 

“Hey,” you whispered. 

“Hey beautiful,” he replied, his tone just as soft as your own. “I love you.” 

Your stomach did a flip as his words sunk in while other parts of you wanted to dare him to prove it again. “I love you too.” 

He kissed you then, lips unyielding and slow against you own while you felt his muscular farm-earned body press into you. He broke away, his lips trailing down your chin and your neck while nipping at your collarbone softly. “Tell me again.” 

“I love you, Arthur Morgan.” 

He groaned, pushing his lips once more into your shoulder before rolling on to his back and taking a deep breath. You stared at the pale ceiling above you for a solid couple of seconds before rolling on to your side and seeing him looking blankly above. As if he could feel your eyes on him, he spoke quietly into the darkness. “I’ve wanted to hear you say that forever.” 

“Yeah?”

Now his crystal eyes turned back towards you, something brewing up behind them. “It pains me to hear it now.” 

An emotion, you weren’t sure you wanted to face right now, twisted inside of you. “Arthur…” 

“Y/N,” he propped himself up on his elbow before bringing a hand over towards your face and brushing a stray piece of hair that had slipped out of the mess it was already in. “Do you remember the night before you left to go to college?” 

“Vaguely.” 

He got a small chuckle out of that, clearly remembering how you could barely walk in a straight line. “I was going to tell you that night.” 

You sat up a bit now, matching his stance as he continued to look over at you. “Why didn’t you?”

There was another sharp inhale from him. “Well, you told me that there was nothing for you here.” 

“Arthur…” you murmured. “I didn’t mean it like that.” 

His silence had you sitting up even more towards him, suddenly feeling the need to reassure him of your words. “Arthur?” 

“I know,” he answered softly, looking down at where your fingers were entwined. “I know that it wasn’t how you meant it, but it was how I took it. I didn’t want you to stay because of me. I,” he leaned in towards you now, his forehead resting against your own as he squeezed his eyes shut. “I didn’t want you to resent me.” 

“Never in a million years could I resent you, Morgan.” 

A solemn chuckle came from him. “Not even now?” 

You knew what he was implying. You knew that he was pushing the envelope about what had just happened, despite the fact that you both had wanted this for what felt like your whole life - you and Arthur had fucked up; in such a major way. He was taken by another woman who very well could still be at his house waiting for him to come home and you were still technically married. 

“Shit,” you muttered, pushing away now. 

Arthur’s fingers grazed your arm as you stood up from the bed, but they didn’t make any effort to stop you. Instead, he laid there watching you as you kept your back towards him, trying to shake the sudden wave of emotions overtaking you. After a couple of minutes, you heard the springs of the old mattress creak as he got up, you felt the heat of his body behind you followed by a lone hand reaching towards your own and giving you a gentle tug. 

You didn’t turn to meet him as easily as he hoped causing him to drop your hand and make the small circle around where you were standing so that he was before you now. “Still feel the same way?” He asked as you felt the way his eyes roamed your slouched figure in front of him. “Still feel like you can’t hate me?” 

A burst of something shot through your veins as you glared up at him now, eyes daring him to push a little more. “Morgan, if I hate anyone in this room right now, it’s me.” 

“You?” 

You gave a harsh laugh, rolling your eyes at the obvious before crossing your arms across your chest. “Yes, me.” 

The confusion was clear on his face and you had to fight the fit of giggles that were ironically building up in the pit of your stomach. “I don’t understand.” 

“I don’t expect you ever to,” you shrugged feeling that familiar regurgitation of words begin, “I just, I hate that it took me this long to not see the signs. Not see the way that you treated me all those years ago and to take full-on advantage of you now, while I’m in the midst of a divorce and you’re well on your way to being a married man yourself.” 

“Y/N,” Arthur tried. 

“I hate that even when I was away from Sweet Water it was all I could think about. I hate that even when I was hitting up bar scenes in college, none of them compared to the fact that it was missing you. Even worse, there were times that I’d having some guy hitting on me with some cheesy sort of line and all I’d ever want was you there to put those poor boys down. I hate that I’m just a walking example of shit out of luck.” 

His palm brushed your bare shoulder, trying to get your attention, but you continued. “I hate that I even left this place, to begin with.” 

A sob slipped through your rant and before you knew it, you were shaking with the damn things. Arthur stepped forward this time, wrapping his strong arms around your frame, fingers coaxing their way through the mess of your hair. 

“I hate that I failed.” you choked.

His movements paused. “You haven’t failed at anything.” 

A stale laugh came out before the one thing you had been keeping from everyone came spilling out. “I failed at my marriage. I failed at never stepping foot back in Sweet Water. I failed at killing myself.” 

Arthur’s whole body stilled now as he took a step back from you, hands gripping your shoulders as he took a look down at where you were avoiding his scrutiny. “Y/N, please,” his grip loosened on one hand while he reached for your chin, nudging you to gaze up at him. “Look at me.” 

You did as he requested, but couldn’t bring yourself to explain yourself any further. Those aqua eyes searched yours, likely trying to determine how to approach this touchy topic. You expected him to be mad, but when his voice broke through the silence it sounded hurt as he whispered, “When?” 

You shrugged. 

“Tell me the truth.” 

His grip didn’t let up from your chin, forcing you to maintain that eye contact with him. “After I lost my baby.” 

Eyes closed briefly while he took a deep breath, sucking in all the air around the two of you in that suffocating room of yours. “When?” He asked again.

“Six months ago.” 

“Baby,” he muttered. “Why didn’t you tell anyone?” 

You gave a half-hearted shrug. “I felt that it was my burden to bear.” 

“Your husband?” 

That got a snort out of you as you rolled your chin out of his grasp and moved away from the emotional grasp Arthur was closing you in with. “He was too busy fucking his secretary to even know what was going on with my doctor’s appointments.” 

There was a pause just as a cloud seemed to float over the sun, darkening the room in the most fitting way. Mother Nature really liked to make her presence known these days with you.

“What the fuck,” he finally stated through gritted teeth. “What kind of man just lets his woman silently suffer like that?” 

“Someone who has checked out.” 

The two of you stared at one another again.

You watched as Arthur spun on his heel, facing the wall and giving you his back, allowing you to get a good look at those broad muscular shoulders of his in the process. Your nails had done a number on them from what you could see; something that would be hard to explain should the need arise. You watched as he ran his hand over his face a couple of times, unsure where to go from here with the conversation. 

“I’m sorry,” you stated slowly, carefully putting your words together. “I know I said I wanted to talk, but I didn’t mean to unload all of these suppressed feelings on you at once.” 

His shoulders went lax in front of you as you continued. “I know this is completely shitty timing, but that just seems to be how my life is going these days. I know you have Mary, I know I have a divorce lawyer waiting for me back home and that you have a life to get on with, one that seems to be doing just great until I showed up. 

“I’m sorry that I waited until the worst possible moment to come to terms with my feelings for you. I’m sorry it put us in this position.” 

There was a sigh from him, but he didn’t turn to face you, which was probably for the best as you continued. “I’m sorry I came back.” 

You watched as Arthur’s shoulder’s squared, this time he turned with eyes full of purpose. “Mary’s cheating on me. Has been for the better part of a year.” 

Surprise had to be clearly written across your face as your jaw fell open. “Excuse me?” 

He continued to stare hard at you. “I’ve always kind of known something was going on but figured after I proposed things would get better. I don’t know why I thought a ring on her finger would change anything, but I just did. Maybe it was because I didn’t want to put in the effort of finding someone else.” 

“You easily could have anyone else, Arthur.” 

He took a step towards you now, then another as his eyes were closely trained on you. “The only other person I want is you.” 

You stayed quiet, once more allowing the two of you to take in one another. It dawned on you right then and there that you were both very broken people - two broken people who seemed to be looking for each other in all the wrong places. 

His gaze didn’t waver as he closed the gap between the both of you. “What do you want me to do, Y/N?”

“I... I don’t know.” 

“Bullshit,” his tone was hard, daring you to give him the answer you both knew you wanted to give. “This is our chance. As fucked as it is, tell me what you want me to do.” 

With an icy inhale, you tried to calm the drumline of your heart, trying to convince yourself that this was all some sort of hazy dream - that you were actually passed out in the living room still waiting for Arthur to come over for the very conversation that led to all this. 

No number of deep breaths was proving you wrong. 

“Don’t get married.”

His mouth was on you before you even had to give him a real reason. 

\---

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so sorry that this took so long to get out. I apologize for any major fuck ups on my end, but I have more coming soon. Thanks for sticking around. <3


	11. 11.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> {more of a filler chapter.}
> 
> \-- Arthur must face the outcome of his actions.

_**11.** _

_Arthur_

I wanted nothing more than to stay in bed with her all day. 

I came damn near close to doing it until I realized it was close to lunch and I had promised John I’d be back to help milk the cattle almost an hour ago. She just made it so hard for me to think straight that even with all my responsibilities looming over my head, all I wanted to focus on was her. I wanted to focus on us - dammit, I wanted to go back in time and change everything that had happened; say the things that needed to be said, kiss her when the moment was right. 

Barely two steps in the back door and I heard a clicked of the tongue against teeth. “Well, well,” John stepped out from the entryway that led into the study, one that had been turned into a makeshift room for his little family while they got themselves situated in their new house. “Someone was gone an awfully long time.” 

A quick glance proved that the sly little smirk John was wearing was one that had me thinking he knew exactly what went down. “Yeah, sorry about that,” I muttered, making my way over to the sink for a much-needed glass of water. “Time just kind of slipped away.” 

“That happens.” 

There was a tone in his voice, one that I couldn’t quite figure out if it was criticizing or approving. “Yeah.” I kept my eyes on the full glass in front of me before daring a glance over at John. “Have you eaten lunch yet?” 

He took another step into the room, giving me a small nod before sidestepping towards where the fridge was and swinging open the heavy door. “Abigal made us some sandwiches,” there was a ruffle of something before I saw a plate appear, “She saved you one.” 

“That woman is a saint.”

My friend chuckled, shaking his head once more. “You don’t have to tell me twice.” 

John placed the plate on the table before taking the empty chair across from the one that I was idly hovering behind. I knew he was inviting me to sit down and eat some food, something that my stomach was begging for, but I also knew that he was more than likely waiting for me to spill the beans on what just happened. 

It wasn’t exactly a secret about why I had been going over, but when I spoke with John the night before - I had told him that I was going to follow through with marrying Mary. I assured him that I knew what I was doing and that marrying her was the right thing to do.   
As always, I put my foot in my mouth. 

Carefully, I sat down and pulled the plate towards me. I noticed how Abigal slapped a decent amount of deli meat on to my sandwich before smothering it with what could only be mayonnaise and some sliced cheese. Even though I was starving, I couldn’t bring myself to take a bite while dark eyes burned into my forehead. 

Keeping my eyes downcast, I spoke my question carefully, “Is there something you want to ask me, Marston?”

“Do I need to ask the question?” 

I sighed, grabbing the bread with both hands and bringing it towards me, blurting out my sentence quickly. “She told me she loved me.” 

John took a quick breath, exhaling it just slowly as those words sunk in. “And?” 

“And I kissed her again,” I dared the bite now, even though the feel of her lips on mine were still burning through everything else. “And again, and then I told her I loved her and well,” I shrugged, still keeping my gaze laser-focused on the etching of the wooden table we were sitting at. “It really wouldn’t be gentlemanly of me to indulge in the rest.” 

“Arthur,” my friend said, standing up from his seat now. “What the hell man?” 

I couldn’t give him an answer. Hell, I really couldn’t explain to myself why I had let things escalate the way that they did, but choices were made in the three hours that I was over there - and the reality of it was that I couldn’t take them back. 

What made it worse, was that I didn’t want to. 

“I love her, John,” I put the food down now, scooting the small platter away, but still keeping my attention anywhere but my best friend. “I love her.” 

He had been pacing, clearly trying to digest this information himself when he halted suddenly, turning a stern gaze towards me. “Jesus, you don’t think I’ve known you’ve been in love with that poor girl since day one?”

I stayed silent which he took as his cue to continue. “But what the hell are you going to do? You know she’s going through some shit, you’re supposed to be getting married!” When I opened my mouth to explain, the pointed glare was enough to tell me it had to wait. “Yes, we all know that Mary is fooling around with that poor Barry fella, but does it really make you any better to be doing the exact same thing?” 

“No,” I whispered. 

John stopped his erratic pacing and sighed. “Morgan, I just… I just want you to really think about this.” He came and sat back down, waiting until I finally braved to look up at him. “Don’t get me wrong, Abigal and I think that you and Y/N should have been together ages ago, but I also think there is a better way to go about it.”

I groaned the two bites of food that I had taken a sour turn in the pit of my stomach. “Of all the people in my life, why do you have to be the voice of reason?”

That earned a solid smack on the shoulder before John reminded me that we still had cows to take care of. Barely making it four steps out the back door before John reminded me that he would support my decision no matter what, but there were more than just my feelings I had to worry about.

I always hated when he was right. 

* * *

“Hey, handsome,” Mary’s voice came floating through the back door, just as John and his wife made their exit through the front to see if Grimshaw would let them stick around for a couple of hours. “I brought some wine.” 

The heavy clunk of the bottle echoed through the quaint kitchen as I watched my fiancee throw down her bag in the closest chair before beginning to root around for a wine glass. Even after all these years, she never remembered where I stored them - the small cabinet right next to the fridge, second shelf up and all the way to the right. Mary’s hair looked damp, which clearly meant that she had showered before coming over, which also meant that she could have been trying to hide the fact that she had been coming back from seeing her “family friend.” 

I stepped away from the counter I had been leaning against when I heard her truck pull into the driveway. I had been too distracted by the shadow hovering in the garage behind the house to really make the effort to move prior. We hadn’t been in contact at all today and I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that it was tearing me apart. 

Shaking my head in an effort to pull my focus elsewhere, I picked up the bottle she had just put down reading the label with feigned interest. “Is there a special occasion?” 

“Not really,” her airy voice rang as the cling of glass on glass hit my ears. Chestnut eyes looked me over as she sauntered her way back towards where I was standing, gently pulling the wine bottle out of my grasp. “Just thought it would be nice to enjoy some while we go over some wedding details.” 

“Oh.” 

Her dark eyebrow quirked as she poured the two of us a glass. “Did you have something else in mind for tonight?” 

The dip in her tone was undeniable, but the similar feeling in the pit of my stomach said something else entirely. “I was thinking we could sit down and have a little talk.” 

“A talk?” Any flirty and playful hues in her voice were wiped away. “What kind of talk?”

Staying quiet when she handed me my own glass of the dark liquid was clearly not the best answer because Mary was quick to down hers before pouring herself another one and parking herself down in the very stool that John had been lecturing me in earlier. As much as I wanted to drink away my mistakes, I knew that I needed to have a level head for the things I was about to lay out on the table. 

“Arthur?” 

“Mary,” I replied, her name weighing a ton on the tip of my tongue. “We… we just need to talk about some things.” 

I waited until she was about halfway through her current glass, giving me a solid couple of minutes to try and get my thoughts together. Just as I was about to spill my piece, Mary blurted out the very last question I thought I would ever hear from her. “You know about Barry, don’t you?” 

The color clearly drained itself from my face as I tried to think of what I could say to her question. “Barry?” 

“Barry,” she said cooly as if she was just talking about what we should have for dinner. “Judging by your body language you know about Barry.” 

“I’ve known about him for quite some time.” 

Mary looked over at me, her face void of any emotion before a cackle broke through. “Only you, Arthur Morgan, would know that kind of secret and still put on a front to believe the best in a person.” 

I gave her a shrug before downing my glass quickly. “I did love you, Mary Lipton. And to be honest, I thought if I proposed to you,” I glanced over to where her ring sat on her finger, “I thought it would change things.” 

“How’d you find out?” 

Now it was my turn to give a little laugh. “We both know you can’t hide a secret.” 

Her eyes glazed over for a moment, but not even a smile graced her lips as she spoke sternly once more. “No, seriously, how’d you find out?” 

“Abigal.” 

She clearly had more questions, but the expression on her face proved that knowing the answers wouldn’t change things. Thinking back to Y/N’s notice of her husband having had checked out, it made a couple of things much more clear in my own relationship. All the nights that Mary would go to bed without so much as a good night, or when we ran into Y/N at the store when she first came back - she muttered something about thinking she would have been better looking but never circled back around to it even when I told her I was going to Grimshaw’s with her. 

I was starting to think that Mary wanted something to happen between Y/N and myself so that she could put the blame on me when shit hit the fan.

The two of us sat at the table for what felt like an hour but was probably only a couple of minutes while we finished our drinks. Mary took the last couple of gulps before standing up and glancing down at her ring finger where the measly little diamond I had been able to afford sat waiting for it’s accompanying piece. 

I watched as Mary sighed before slowly trailing the slim silver circle down her slender finger. She held it in her hand for a moment or two before placing it on the table in front of her. “We were good together Arthur.”

“Then why Barry?” 

Mary patted the spot where the lone ring was sitting. “Because I think we both know you never loved me in the way you wanted to.”

\--

**Author's Note:**

> feedback keeps me going. <3


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